


what you want (what you say)

by iinamorata (orphan_account)



Category: Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them (Movies)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-10
Updated: 2020-08-10
Packaged: 2021-03-05 23:35:33
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,865
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25823761
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/iinamorata
Summary: Newt realises a million things in the seconds it takes for Grindelwald to walk over to Leta.He's done everything wrong.
Relationships: Leta Lestrange/Newt Scamander
Comments: 2
Kudos: 27





	what you want (what you say)

"She was a taker." Queenie says, decisive, determined.

Newt thinks _so what?_

Queenie falters for a moment, but then shakes her head. "You need a giver."

Newt kind of wants to be angry, but all he feels instead is just this exhaustion, this resignation.

He stopped wondering long ago if people were capable of reacting any differently to the thought of him and Leta.

("The world has it out for me, I think." Leta whispered one night, like a secret.

Newt was sorry, and sympathetic, but not entirely understanding, not yet. "You just need to give the world a chance.")

_Who are you saying this for?_

Queenie has no answer for him.

*

"Does Leta Lestrange like to read?" Tina asks.

Newt thinks Leta's name sounds wrong coming from Tina's mouth.

"Who?" He sputters, because he's confused, and a little dizzy, and maybe a bit angry all over again.

Tina looks wary, unsure of herself. "The girl whose picture you carry."

Mabye Newt shouldn't be so surprised, but he is.

This was their goodbye, _their_ goodbye, and then suddenly Tina is saying Leta's name and looking at him as if she has so carefully balanced the state of her heart on the tip of _his_ tongue. Newt doesn't really want any of it.

"I don't really know what Leta likes these days." He mutters eventually, a statement that's more a truth than a lie.

Newt knows Leta from Hogwarts, the Leta who attracted trouble as much as he did, the Leta who got angry when she really just wanted to cry, the Leta who was rough around the edges but could hold the smallest of creatures in her hands with an impossible softness. He knew Leta from Hogwarts well. He loved Leta from Hogwarts.

Who Leta was now? That was more a mystery to him than anything else.

Most people assumed that changed things.

Tina is looking at him with hope brimming in her eyes thinking that it changed things.

Newt was the only one who knew it didn't change anything.

"Because people change." He finishes.

But his feelings? They remained the same.

*

Newt is running on nothing but pure determination and will power (and the half a sandwich that Bunty had practically force fed him earlier in the day) as he tries to finish up the last few details on his book.

He's had to stifle quite a few yawns, but the closer he was getting to its completion, the less he felt like stopping.

Leta walks in just in time to catch him as he starts to sway on his feet, catching him by his arms before he topples over.

"Leta." He mumbles, blinking slow, wondering if he might already be asleep and dreaming.

Leta smiles, soft and slightly exasperated (it looks exactly the same as how she always used to smile at him, and his heart does the same funny little flip it always did when he used to see it back in school). "Newt. You look... terrible."

Newt rights himself with a jerk, coughing a little uncomfortably as he puts more space between them. "What... what are you doing here?"

"Thought I'd check up on you." She replies, still smiling, talking to him as if he hasn't been avoiding her for a good few years. "Good thing I did too... if you carry on like this you'll work yourself to death."

Newt scratches at the back of his ear, awkward and somewhat embarrassed. "I'm fine. I just need to add the finishing touches and then I'll be done. I'll rest when I'm finished."

Leta, who's always had that uncanny ability of seeing right through him, simply frowns. "Your book will still be there in the morning. Why don't you get some sleep first, and then finish when you wake? You'd be able to do more with a clear mind, don't you think?"

The familiarity of it all, of Leta being concerned for him and half lecturing him out of his bad habits, it rattles him. If he closes his eyes he thinks he could pretend they were back at Hogwarts again, just two kids, alone and disjointed but together all the same. He misses the warmth, the way they used to exist with each other without the unnameable _something_ that settles in-between them now, like a big thick line separating them from each other.

"You're not going to take no for an answer, are you?"

Leta wins, as she always does, and Newt collapses face first into his bed to the sounds of Leta cleaning up downstairs.

When he wakes up in the morning, feeling well rested and refreshed for the first time in weeks, there is a note left on his kitchen table.

He runs his fingers over the familiar curves and lines of Leta's handwriting, and can't help the smile that surfaces when he reads _'Take care of yourself, Newt.'_

(His heart goes _thump! thump! thump!_ and he thinks to himself _oh, bugger._ )

*

Newt falls back on old habits.

He ignores the invitations to dinner with Leta and Theseus, he avoids setting foot in the ministry ever again, he stops showing up in public almost all together simply to ensure his chances of running into her are infinitesimal.

Once upon a time those tactics had worked, had kept Newt and Leta at a great enough distance so that he never had to think of her at all.

(The framed picture he keeps in his case that he can't bear to remove, he tells himself, means nothing.)

But the minute his book is finished and out, suddenly she is inserting herself back into his life as if she never left (as if he never made her).

Something about her sudden presence near him sets him on edge, makes him unable to focus, unable to think. At first he simply lets her back in, not daring to deny her an entrance when she shoots that hard look his way. All the guilt he'd felt for having ever pushed her away in the first place swells and festers and forces him to simply open the door a bit wider to let her in when she shows up unannounced.

Things aren't quite like they were before, though.

Every little thing she does drives him up the wall. When she hovers around him as he works, leaning her head over his shoulder to take a better look at what he's doing, his muscles clench uncontrollably. When he starts rambling passionately about something she knows nothing about, her eyes are lit up with such wonder and fondness it makes his throat go dry. When she flutters around the kitchen, humming a tune under her breath as she moves around the area with a strange sort of familiarity, it makes his heart ache.

(One day he walks through the front door, says "Leta? I'm home." and realises everything is _wrong._ )

"Why are you here?" He asks eventually.

Leta's hands still for a moment, her fingers tight around the handle of the kettle. "Making tea? You know how you get when you're absorbed in your work-"

"-That's not what I meant, and you know it." He cuts in, quick, a little harsh. "Why are you here? Now? You've never bothered before, coming over to make dinner for me, or to make sure I'm doing my work properly."

There is a long, terrible moment where Leta falls completely silent, her back to him. He cannot even begin to guess what kind of expression she might be making, he hasn't been able to do that kind of thing since they left Hogwarts.

When she turns around to face him finally, her mouth is set into a thin line, but her eyes, they _burn._

"I heard about New York." She says, voice quiet, yet firm. "Theseus told me about it, about the Obscurial, about Grindelwald, and you, somehow in the middle of it all. I was scared, I was _terrified_ for you, and I realised that I hated it, I hated that I didn't find out until it was all over. I hated that you couldn't even tell me you were going to New York in the first place. I worried that you might disappear without a word again, and that you might not _come back_ next time. That's why I'm here, that's why I'm always here. But I... I won't come by anymore, if you don't want me here any longer. Just- if you have to go, if you have to leave again, let me know, please _._ "

Her words settle over him like a thick fog, heavy and suffocating and painful. He doesn't notice she's gone until a long time later, when the sun has set and he blinks and realises he's been standing alone in the dark.

Something behind his chest feels broken.

*

Leta stops visiting.

Theseus takes her place.

It is every bit as jarring as Leta's presence. Uncomfortable, though not exactly in the same way.

Theseus doesn't hover, doesn't check up on him when he's been silent for too long, doesn't place a cup of tea in front of him when he's feeling stressed.

Theseus was a very different kind of presence in Newt's house. He would simply walk in and make himself comfortable on Newt's couch, then settle down for the next couple hours with a book or some paperwork.

The first time, he'd said, "If you need anything, just call for me, yeah?" and since then he hasn't spoken a word.

Newt thinks it a bit annoying, that both Leta and Theseus think they have to check up on him like this, as if he was a child in need of babysitting. Not that he doesn't appreciate the company, because some days he really does, but in all honesty it was starting to feel a bit excessive.

"Why are you here?" He asks, and tries hard not to recall the last time he'd said those same exact words.

Theseus gives him this look, the same kind of look he's been giving him for years, like Newt should know better, like he's thinking _really?_ "Leta asked."

Newt swallows, slow. He shouldn't have asked.

"Well, you don't have to, be here that is. I'll be fine on my own. I've _been_ fine on my own."

"I'm not doing this for you." Theseus cements.

Newt nods. _Right._ "Are you in love with her?"

The question takes both brothers by surprise. Newt for having asked it, Theseus for having heard it.

Newt has been seemingly making mistake after mistake after mistake. This is another addition to the growing pile.

 _"Are you?"_ Theseus challenges, gaze steely.

 _No,_ Newt thinks, but somehow the word gets trapped in his throat. He doesn't make a sound.

Theseus turns back to the book in his hands.

The tense atmosphere doesn't ever really leave the room.

*

The world is small. Paris even more so.

Tina. And Credence. And Grindelwald.

Newt isn't really sure where he fits in all this anymore, and why it's him, why it has to be him.

(Dumbledore looks at him as if he has the answers, as if he is balancing the world carefully onto Newt's shoulders for the week.

He doesn't have the heart to object.)

"Congratulations." Tina mutters, quiet and displeased. "I heard about your engagement."

Newt blinks. "My what?"

"Your engagement. To Leta Lestrange? I read about it."

Newt chokes on thin air. "I- we're not- Leta and I aren't engaged."

Tina stops, looking at him with wide eyes. "You're not?"

He pretends he doesn't notice the warmth beginning to blossom in her eyes. "We're not. I don't know where you read that but... they must've misunderstood. Leta and I, we're not- we're not like that."

(Theseus has a ring, Newt knows he does, he's seen it.

He knows who it's for.

He knows too why Theseus never pulls it out, why he never asks.

Newt thinks about the framed picture in his briefcase and thinks he can probably understand.)

The longer Newt is in Tina's company again, the more he feels there is some misunderstanding there, something he needs to clear up with her. But he doesn't like the idea of hurting her, of chasing that smile of hers away, so he puts it away, decides to let himself get distracted by the task at hand, the danger in front of them.

But then Leta is bursting into the picture, so entangled in the larger story, and Newt gets distracted by something else entirely.

"Corvus is dead." Leta announces, calm and cool (though Newt can see underneath the mask her anguish, her guilt). " _Corvus is_ _dead_. I killed him."

Everything derails.

Leta is standing there alone in the room, in the dark, looking smaller than she's ever been.

Newt wants to tell her it's okay to let the light back in. He wants to take hold of her hands and tell her he is _there,_ he will always be there.

But there is an invisible line there, between them, something he'd drawn himself, to keep them distanced from each other, to keep his heart safe and beating and whole in himself.

He can't let himself cross that line, even now.

"It's not your fault." He says. It's all he can offer.

Leta smiles sadly at him, like she knows exactly what he's thinking, like she's a little disappointed.

(His heart is finally silent, still. So why isn't he relieved?)

*

The flames lick at Newt's feet, pushing him further and further back.

Beneath the blue, and the heat, Leta stands tall.

"Grindelwald!" She calls, loud and strong and determined. "Stop!"

_No, no, no._

Newt realises a million things in the seconds it takes for Grindelwald to walk over to Leta.

He's done everything wrong.

He should've kissed Leta. Yesterday. The day before. When they were too young to do it properly.

He should've been selfish, should've never let Theseus and Leta's growing relationship come between them.

He should've stopped her from leaving his house that day, should've told her _I'm sorry_ and asked if they could start over.

He should've told Theseus _yes_.

Leta is standing in front of Grindelwald, flames around her, flames in her eyes, and Newt knows somewhere deep in his bones that Grindelwald will kill her, that she will die today believing she was unloved, believing that she was unwanted, believing that he had given up on her.

An icy chill grips his spine.

He won't let this be it, he won't let this be the end for her.

He fights. He fights and he fights and he fights until he can reach her again.

(The castle is vacant, uncharacteristically silent.

"No one's coming to save me." Leta whispers into the night. "I have no one but myself."

 _I will. You have me._ Newt thinks, but doesn't say.

She stares out into the darkness, eyes far away. "Maybe I'm not worth saving at all."

Newt is too young, too foolish, to know how to respond.

He stays quiet.

The moment passes.)

When she is finally within arms length, he grabs her hand tight in his.

"I'm not letting go." He says, and he realises as she turns her glassy eyes to him that he's been waiting to say it since he was a boy.

*

The dust settles, the ashes fall, the smoke fades.

Tina doesn't linger, is gone before Newt even has the thought to look for her.

Perhaps she saw, perhaps she took one look at the way Newt held onto Leta and refused to let go, and knew.

"Newt-" Leta starts, shoulders trembling, eyes glistening.

"Leta," Newt cuts in, before she can get another word out, "I love you. I'm sorry. _I love you._ "

Leta's mouth is slightly parted, but no words are coming out. She blinks furiously at him, her unshed tears beginning to dry up with each movement.

She looks as if she doesn't believe him.

He takes her face gently in both hands, cupping her cheeks as he looks down into her eyes.

He thinks about how he loves those eyes, how he's loved those eyes for years, how he'll probably continue loving those eyes until the day he passes.

"I love you, Leta. I should've told you this years ago. I love you." He affirms, voice steady, as if he's never been so sure of anything in his life.

She's tearing up again now, and he absentmindedly wipes a few stray tears away with his thumb.

"Newt," She chokes out, her voice wobbling, "do you mean it? Truly?"

There is no hesitation when Newt says "Yes. I do."

Leta sucks in a deep breath before she reaches her hands up to cover Newt's, removing his hands from her face slowly.

Newt thinks _this is it._ Leta could take a step back, reinforce that uncrossable line in-between them yet again, or she could-

"I love you." She whispers, so tenderly, so preciously.

Newt just barely registers her words because the moment they're out of her mouth she is leaning in and kissing him.

Her hands are pulling him close by the front of coat and he's finding it harder and harder to breathe.

-or she could give him _everything_.


End file.
